A/N - This is a new fic for me. I've been wanting to try an AU for absolutely ages, but didn't have a strong enough story idea. Now I do, and I'm totally excited to write it. I was watching Battle Royale the other day, and it really gave me this idea, using the characters from DBZ. It's influenced by a lot of things, as you will probably tell when you read it, but I hope that my own little, unique take on it takes your fancy. I want to leave it quite vague, 'cause there is a LOT of stuff going on in this and I don't want to give it away :D

Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer - I do not own the majority of the characters in this story. Never have. Never will. As heartbreaking as this is, I've come to terms with the fact that they belong to Akira Toryiama, but I am borrowing them for a bit. Thanks, Akira, buddy ;)

WARNING - THIS IS RATED M FOR A GOOD REASON. VIOLENCE AND SEX. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Basic Prologue - Bulma has been captured, her immediate memory erased. She is taken hostage with six other prisoners on-board Frieza's ship. She has no concept of time, but feels she has been prisoner for about a week. Bulma and the prisoners all have something in common, but what is it, and why is it so important to Frieza?

Contending in Darkness

Chapter One

The wallpaper was torn, peeling off in little curls, like overgrown fingernails. Her fingers traced them, pulling one of the loose curls and plucking it from the wall. The cupboards had been ransacked, clothes strewn across the floor, the once plush blue carpet, burnt, leaving an acrid smell in the air. It used to be her place of calm, of safety, and now she barely recognised it. Somehow, the adrenalin and fear lead her to that room, as if it had beckoned her.

She caught sight of a photograph of her parents on the floor, the glass frame around it shattered. She bent down and carefully pulled the picture out, and stared at the image of her mother and father, his arm draped over her shoulder, her beaming face, contagious and making Bulma smile weakly as a tear trickled down her cheek.

An explosion shook the room, throwing Bulma forward. She quickly crammed the picture into her back pocket and scrambled on her hands and knees across the floor. It wasn't long until the soul shattering screams followed, piercing her eardrums. She gasped and had to clamp her hands over her mouth, her heart racing in her chest.

They were close by. Closer than they were before. She had to move, but couldn't. It was like her body had seized up in fear, unyielding to the desire to escape. Slowly, she found the energy to stand up, before frantically searching her room for somewhere to hide, when another explosion sounded, right below her feet on the ground floor. Plaster crumbled from the ceiling and the remaining sheet of glass in the window collapsed, sending tiny shards across the room.

The pain was searing in her ears, a high-pitched drilling in her head. Was she deaf? The noise was unbearable, and she fell back to her knees, squinting at the room. The only place to go was under the bed, so she crawled over to it, inching under it, and pushing the broken bed boards out of the way. Then the footsteps came, and the low-rumbling voices, like the beginning of thunder. Their voices were drained out by the shrilling buzzing in her ears, so she couldn't understand what they were saying, but she knew that they were extremely close.

They were in the next room.

A cupboard crashing, followed by raucous laughter, forced her to cover her mouth from screaming. She wanted to scream. It was pressing in her throat, trying to get out, but she had to stop it. She swallowed as the voices drifted off down the corridor, her body muscles loosening slightly. They'd gone. Maybe they were convinced the area was vacant. Everyone else was dead. Everyone had been murdered by these creatures. Her friends, her family, her neighbors … the entire city had been slaughtered by these … monsters.

As if a cube of ice was being trailed down her spine, Bulma froze when she saw two pairs of feet land in front of the bed. Her eyes widened, staring at their blood smeared shoes, and her will to breathe had vanished. The bed lifted and flew, crashing into the wall. She screamed, her throat dry and painful, and tried to run into the corner of the room, like a startled animal. But she was stopped, a hand gripping onto her shoulder, squeezing so hard, cracking her collar bone. The heat surged through her body. She turned to see their faces, but it was like they had been scratched out, as if someone had blotted ink all over them. She just saw a gleaming pair of teeth, the fangs glowing in the darkness, as they grinned, crushing the bones in her shoulder even more. She tried to scream again, but making any sound was impossible. Her mouth was locked open, unable to call for help, trapped as the darkness consumed her body, the depths of death clawing at her skin.

"Bulma. You need to wake up …"

The soft voice pulled her back to the surface, ripping her away from the deep crevices of her mind. She opened her eyes, and the sight of Chichi's warm eyes was all too familiar and comforting to her. The mattress she was lying on was damp with sweat again. These nightmares had been getting more vivid every night. Bulma sat up and gazed around at all the faces staring back at her, and she felt her skin tingle with embarrassment.

She put a hand to her forehead, rubbing her temples to soothe the relentless throbbing, and turned to Chichi, who sat there giving her a concerned frown. At the same time, she ignored the dull twinge of pain in her shoulder.

"You were screaming in your sleep again," Chichi said as she shifted on the rickety bunk bed.

Again, Bulma's eyes scanned the dank room, the prison they'd been held in. More like a pig pen. The foul smell of faeces and urine lingered in the air. There was a row of metal bunk beds, each prisoner either lying down on one, or sitting up and looking over at her, bemused, obviously from lack of sleep. Their weary, drawn faces from two weeks of malnutrition, making them look like zombies.

Bulma looked down at her torn Capsule Corp t-shirt and jeans. It was all too much to take in.

"I was … having that dream again," she whispered, drawing her knees up to her chest. She didn't care if it stopped the others from sleeping. At least they didn't have to see what she was seeing in her subconscious.

Chichi looked at the ceiling, as if it was going to give her the right words to help her friend. "Maybe it means something."

"I know what it means," a sharp, sarcastic tone shouted from the other side of the room.

They both looked over at the tall man, sitting up on his bed, his arms thrown behind his head, his brows knitted together. "It means you need to do us all a favour, and shut the fuck up for once in your life. How about that?" He crossed his legs and settled back down onto the bed, closing his eyes.

That was Thomas. He was a highly skilled scientist and engineer for a large rival company based in England. She'd seen his face in the papers a few times, and heard about him in the news. In fact, Bulma hazarded a guess that everyone in the room was a scientist. Chichi was head of Capsule Corp in East city, known for building the first ship able to withstand one thousand gravitrons in space.

Over in the other corner was a pair of Namekians, or at least, she thought that was who they were. She'd briefly spoken to them, but their English wasn't very good, and she could barely communicate with them. They must have been extremely clever as well. All in all, there were four humans: herself, Chichi, Thomas and Vadim. All scientists. Two Namekians, and one very peculiar looking creature in the bed next to her. He was very reserved, had barely looked at anyone. He had blue skin, scaled like a fish, and eyes similar to that of a blue bottle fly. His teeth were razor sharp. She caught him whispering to himself a few times, baring his teeth when he noticed her staring at him. She didn't make any effort to get to know that guy. He'd most likely rip her throat out in a split second.

Sleep barely graced them, and the little sleep she got was flooded with nightmares, all too familiar nightmares, stuff that seemed to clear to be a dream.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember the images, but as soon as she'd wake up, they'd fall deeper into the back of her mind.

The most terrifying thing was … no one knew how they got there. The last thing she remembered was having a barbecue with her friends and family, and then she woke up in this room, and had been there for a long time now. Seeing Chichi's face brought her to tears that day. She didn't know why.

The sound of water pattering on the floor from a loose pipe was drumming in her ears. She held her hands over them and lay back on the cold mattress.

"Bulma, are you going to be OK?" Chichi said, edging off the top bunk.

She nodded, keeping her eyes closed. Her stomach gurgled, the pain knotting in her abdomen. When was the last time she ate? It must have been at least a day ago. The food was rancid, like left over, three-day-old meat. Vadim found maggots in his a few days ago, and one of the Namekians was vomiting for hours. She could still smell the stale excrement on the walls.

The mattress shifted as Chichi climbed down, leaving Bulma alone with her thoughts. Whatever she had done in her life … she didn't deserve this. She was too young, too successful. Her life was heading in all the right directions, until now. Now she was trapped in a cell, awaiting, what, a call from some big gangsta or drug dealer? Some guy named 'Lord Frieza', anyway. Whoever this guy was, he didn't know who he was messing with, and as soon as she could find a way out, he would pay-

"Right ladies and gentlemen!" A loud, camp voice said, booming out of the speakers in all four corners of the room.

Bulma winced and a few others groaned and hissed. Not this guy again.

"You are all cordially invited to a meeting with none other than Lord Frieza himself. Isn't that exciting?"

There were shocked glances exchanged round the room. Bulma sat bolt up-right; her hands braced either side of the mattress.

"Some lovely men are going to come and escort you in a minute. Remember, chin up, and don't forget to smile," the voice said all too happily, and then disappeared.

The room—except the tapping of water drops—was deadly silent for a moment, as everyone, including the blue-skinned creature, sat looking at each other.

"I'm not going any-fucking-where. That Lord Frieza, whoever the fuck he is, can fuck off," Thomas said, crossing his arms and throwing himself back down onto his bed.

Vadim stood up, nervously shaking his hands out, as if ready to give a big speech. "I … need to get out of here … right now," he said, his Russian accent thick with every word.

The two Namekians, one hanging over the bed to see the other, were mumbling to each other, their eyes wide with fear.

"Chichi?" Bulma said, her hands shaking.

"Yeah?"

"What do we do?"

There was a long period of silence.

"We wait," Chichi said, gravely.

The huge metal doors of the cell swung open, crashing into the wall with a brain shattering clatter, knocking all the lights out. From beyond the pitch black, you could feel the panic rise, as the loose bed joints squeaked from people fumbling to get down.

Bulma gulped, the stomach acid gurgling, threatening to erupt, as she tried to get her eyes to focus in the darkness.

A bleaching light was cast from the empty doorway, and everyone winced.

"Right. I am leaving … right now. Come on everyone. You can see this. The door is open. We should leave …" Vadim said, pacing back and forth. "They would be in by now … They're not … Let's go." He bolted for the doorway, his thin frame surrounded by the glowing light, but he stopped. He stood stock-still, like a dear caught in the headlights of an enormous truck.

Bulma's heart pounded. She squinted in the shadowy darkness. "Vadim? What's wrong?"

Chichi screamed as Vadim's body dropped to the floor.

"What … the fuck?" Thomas yelled, jumping from his bed and heading to the door.

Bulma couldn't move again, like in her dreams. She'd completely frozen in time, only able to watch faint silhouettes of everyone, running around in the darkness.

It was a matter of seconds before Thomas was on the floor, unconscious. And just as Bulma found the use of her body, two dark figures came bounding towards her, sending her tumbling off the bunk bed, whacking the bottom of her back on the floor. She yelped in pain.

She looked up as one of the dark figures loomed over her.

"No. Stop," she shouted, as they pointed something in her direction.

Her body was too weak to move. All she could do was put her hand up, but as she did, she felt a sharp sting in her palm. Something had bitten her, something was biting her. She pulled her hand towards her face, breathing heavily, trying to keep her eyes open. It looked like some kind of dart, or needle stuck deep into her skin. It hurt so much. Within a few seconds, she was being pulled into the darkness of her subconscious, the figure in front of her fading to black, like the end of a movie.

The sound of clapping brought Bulma back to consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open, almost blinded by the intensity of the light in the room. She instinctively clasped her palm, where the pain had come from, but there was nothing there. What the hell had just happened? Where was she?

"Bravo!" A raspy, feminine voice cheered.

There was a lot of groaning, as Bulma slowly sat up and took in the sight of the grand room and fancy decor. What the-

"What the fuck has just happened?" Thomas grumbled, rubbing the back of his head, his blonde hair dishevelled.

One of the Namekians was up and shaking the metal bars of their containment.

Another prison …

Bulma started when she felt someone grab her shoulder. She turned around to see Chichi groggily pulling herself towards her.

"I must say, you put up a marvellous fight. I was impressed." The raspy voice chuckled darkly.

They all looked up, as a glossy skinned, purple and white creature with eyes and lips like rubies came stalking over towards the cage.

Lord Frieza.

Bulma didn't know how she knew that, but she just did. She must have seen him before. He was a beautiful creature, quite enrapturing to look at. Instantly, she felt the need to get to her feet.

His eyes scanned over all of them, as his lips curved into a smirk.

The Namekian stopped shaking the bars, gazing in awe at Frieza, his mouth agape.

"Zarbon, get me something to drink, would you?" he said, and Bulma looked to the tall, stunning man, with long green hair and deep green eyes.

"Yes, Lord Frieza," Zarbon said, and paced over to the large dining table.

That voice. That accent. It sounded faintly Australian. It was the same voice that kept talking to them over the speakers. So that was Zarbon. Bulma could've stared at him all day, but Frieza kept pacing back and forth into her line of vision. She hadn't expected such a strange creature.

"So," he said, clasping his hands together excitedly. "I bet you're all wondering what you're doing here." He looked among them all, his face glowing with delight. No one answered. No one uttered a sound. He chuckled. "Well, I've invited you here to discuss my little … plan." He stopped momentarily as Zarbon handed him a glass of red liquid, which Bulma hoped was wine.

The small, blue prisoner started whispering to himself again. Freiza's eyes darted to him. "Now, there's no need for that language. This is all just a bit of fun."

Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it.

"You're all going to help me, you see. We're going to play this fantastic game I've created." He took a sip of the red liquid and smacked his lips together, his eyes landing on Bulma.

"You're the greatest minds in the galaxy. Except me, of course. You should be honoured that I've chosen you. You're going to find me the Dragon Balls on the largest uninhibited planet in the solar system—planet zero-one-six-zero."

The Dragon Balls? The name of that planet rang a bell. Bulma's brow furrowed. Whatever he wanted her to do, she wasn't going to do it. He could have whatever he wanted. If he wanted money, she had plenty of money to give him. Surely she could bribe him off easily?

"A group of highly intelligent minds like you should find that too easy, so I've added a little bit of spice to the game."

Bulma could feel warm tears forming.

"Planet zero-one-six-zero is one of the most hostile planets in the galaxy, so you will need strength, which none of you have. You will be paired up with a warrior of my choice, and you will find the Dragon Balls together. There are seven balls in total. There are seven of you and seven of warriors. You have seven days to find the balls." He took another thoughtful sip of his drink. "Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention … You will each be given a device to wear around your ankle. If you exceed one hundred metres from your partner, the device will inject a deadly poison into your bodies, killing you instantly. If you die, then your partner dies."

Bulma looked over at the other prisoners, who were all doing the same thing. Suddenly, everyone was eyeing each other curiously. Bulma couldn't take it all in. Was it even real? Her dreams were so vivid these days …

Chichi was sobbing quietly into her hands.

"If you do not gather all seven dragon balls when the seven days are up, you will die. If you do, you and your partner will be granted freedom."

"How are we all supposed to get deh seven dra-gon balls if there eez already seven people. We can only acquire one each," said Vadim, counting on his fingers, nervously rocking back and forth.

Frieza snorted with laughter. "Tut, tut. Aren't you supposed to be clever? It's a free for all! If you find someone with a dragon ball, you take it from them, and well, you get the rest of the picture." Freiza's eyes shone at the thought.

Vadim's face went grey, and it looked like he was about to pass out.

"This is insane," Chichi said, shaking all over.

"Oh, dear. It's just a bit of fun, my little pet," Frieza said, and walked right up to the bars of the cage. His tail snaked through the bars and stroked Chichi's face.

She whimpered, inching away from him.

Bulma felt a surge of fury and tried to bite her tongue, but she couldn't help it. "Get off her," she shouted, and Freiza locked eyes with her.

He grinned. "You must be Bulma Briefs."

"That's right," she said, holding her chin high. What the hell was she doing? Why had her body turned to mush all of a sudden?

"I know exactly who you're going to be paired up with …" His red eyes blazed into her blue eyes.

She sat back down on the floor. Melted, in fact. Something about Lord Frieza sent her cowering in fear. He gulped the last of his drink, threw the glass on the floor and snarled at Bulma before turning around and clapping his hands high in the air.

"Without further ado, I suggest we should get on with the show."

Bulma stiffened again, panic coursing through her veins. The show? What show? There was no show. She started to push herself backwards on her behind, until her back met the cool metal of the other side of the cage. She was well and truly trapped.

Somehow, she found Chichi's hand, and gripped hold of it tightly, feeling the bones crush together. Chichi squeezed back, but Bulma couldn't look anywhere but at Frieza as he strode towards the end of the dining table to meet Zarbon. People started to scream again, the bars of the cage were rattling from the Namekians shaking them, she could hear Vadim mumbling to himself, the blue creature started whispering again. Thomas was shouting obscenities at Lord Frieza but to no avail. All the sounds crashed together until they morphed into the high-pitched screech from Bulma's dream. No. She couldn't go back there. No, no, no.

Chichi's grip loosened, causing Bulma to snap back to reality. Chichi was slumped forward with a dart sticking out of her neck. Another dart? Bulma's eyes widened in terror as the high pitched shrill drowned her. She got up and ran, gripping onto the cage.

"Let me out, right now," she said, staring right at Frieza. She knew it was a wasted effort, but she couldn't sit around a just give up.

He turned round and smiled a glorious smile, before waving. "Sleep tight, Bulma Briefs."

A dart had been shot from somewhere in the room, right into her neck. She gasped and tried to pull it out, swivelling and toppling over Vadim's unconscious body. She lifted her head, dazedly, searching for where the shot had come from, but couldn't see anyone. Her eyelids felt too heavy. She closed them.

The thrashing from side to side woke Bulma up from a dreamless sleep. Her eyes felt like they had to prized open. She didn't want to open them, because the last thing she remembered was being shot in the neck by a tranquiliser gun. Regardless, she knew she had to. Being shaken was forcing her to accept her reality. But what was her reality?

The first thing she felt was a pulsing pain in her leg. She opened her eyes, rubbed away the thick film of drowsiness, and looked down to see her jeans torn from the knee down and her ankle dripping with blood, where a strange, metal-looking anklet had been attached. She tried to reach down to get it off, but she was severely restricted by a set of straps around her arms and chest, holding her to her seat, like some kind of roller-coaster harness. She looked at it again. The blood had hardened into scabs. Three large streaks of dried blood down her leg. The pain was immeasurable. She couldn't help let out a sob.

The containment she was in was small, probably a six by four meter cell. It was dark, and smelled like rotten flesh. It must have been used for torture purposes because there was blood spatter and smears on the walls.

It thrashed again, violently throwing Bulma forward, her chest crushing against the harness. She was moving. She was moving fast. Was she in a ship? It was the worst ship she'd ever been in, if it was.

"Help," she shouted, and bit her lip, awaiting any kind of response.

All she could hear was the walls rattling through the air, and an exhaust of some kind, burning into the atmosphere. She screamed until her throat became too sore. No one was there. She was alone. Not even Chichi was there. What had happened to everyone? Why was she on her own? She had barely been able to listen to what Frieza said. It all happened too fast. None of it filtered through the shock and confusion. She closed her eyes, threw her head forward and sobbed quietly. She wanted to go home. She wanted to see her boyfriend and for him to tell her that everything was going to be fine. She wanted to wake up and for it all to be just another nightmare. She could cope with that.

"Good morning, my little lab rats and monkeys," the sinister, wiry voice of Frieza came crackling out of a speaker somewhere.

Bulma lifted her head up, pushing her matted aqua hair out of her face, and rubbed the mucus from her nose with the back of her hand. His voice sent a chill down her spine every time.

"As of now, you are travelling at a catatonic speed to the planet zero-one-six-zero, where you will begin your search for the seven Dragon Balls."

That planet, the name. It rang a bell again, but she didn't know why. Her head pulsed with frustration as everything came flooding back from the meeting with Frieza.

"In the room opposite to you is your team mate, or partner, as you will. Remember, stay close to them. We don't want any premature casualties, now, do we?" He chuckled, and the voice trailed off until it disappeared.

In the room opposite? Bulma looked to the metal door, where there was a tiny, square panel, which had been cut out, like a window. She craned her neck, but couldn't see a damn thing. Shit. There was someone on the other side of that wall, trapped in a cell like she was. Her partner. The thought made her skin break out into thousands of goose bumps. It was real. This was really happening. Deep down, she always knew something bad was going to happen to her. Everything was going too well: perfect job, perfect family, and perfect boyfriend. And now she was probably going to die. She was too exhausted and drained to even fight back.

But, something about knowing that she had someone else with her gave her a slither of hope.

She cleared her raw throat. If someone was there, maybe she could talk to them, communicate with them. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

She waited.

Nothing.

"My name is Bulma Briefs … I'm from the planet Earth—"

She was hurled forward as the ship started to shake again, worsening until her body was lifting off the seat, her harness choking her and digging into her sore collar bone. She screamed, her voice cracking into a mute wail. What was happening? At that moment, she wanted to black out, she wanted the darkness to consume her and never let her resurface.

The cell rattled and rattled, and Bulma could've sworn she heard loose bolts dropping to the floor and rolling around. This was it. She was going to die. She squeezed her eyes shut, gripped onto the harness and started humming the song her mother would sing to her when she was frightened, blocking out all the noises surrounding her. A tear ran down her cheek.

She reached the second verse when the piercing, high pitch 'ping' returned. She could hear nothing else. She slowly opened her eyes and for a moment, she thought she saw clear blue sky, before being thrust to the side of the cell, her lungs crushing together against the harness, taking all the oxygen out of her body.

Just as she wanted, she was pulled under again, the drilling in her ears fading out.

The cell was icy cold, drawing Bulma out, back to the surface. She coughed, and tiny specks of blood flew out, landing on her cheeks. She needed to move. But she didn't want to. A shot of disappointment hit her suddenly. She actually thought she'd died. As the thought came upon her, so did the pain in her leg, her shoulders, her chest.

She could hear the wind whipping the sides of the cell, making it vibrate and howl. She managed to roll over onto her back, throwing the torn harness off her body, and exhale very slowly, allowing herself to process what the hell was going on.

A banging sound startled her. Her hearing came back into focus, and she lifted her head up slightly. The door was open and banging against the wall. There was a tiny corridor on the other side, and she could see the adjacent cell, the door wide open.

Her heart lunged, and she suddenly found the strength to get to her feet. She dropped to her knees, gripping onto her ribs, crying out in pain. She let out short breaths. How was she supposed to do anything if she was on the edge of life already? It felt as if there was a hand on her ribs, pulling them apart every time she moved. It didn't matter. She had to get up. C'mon, Bulma, get up. You are not that weak.

She bit her lip and slowly lifted herself up, holding onto her ribs. Right, that's it. Now, walk a bit further … She hobbled to the open door. The device on her ankle was tugging at her skin. It had been drilled into her bones. She could feel it moving as she moved. It made her feel nauseous. Frieza was a sick creature. Why the hell would he do something like that?

The cell opposite was identical to the one she had been in. As she stepped into the narrow corridor, a sudden gust of wind nearly knocked her off her feet again. The freezing cold gripped her entire body. The main door was open, and all there was outside was a white canvas. Snow. Everywhere. Bulma's eyes widened as she held her body for warmth. The cell opposite was empty. The person in there had vanished. Maybe there was no one in there to begin with. Perhaps they were on a different ship?

Or … maybe … it was all a hoax, an elaborate plan to try and scare everyone to death. The idea seemed plausible. Frieza was a deranged monster, clearly, so he could have fabricated the entire thing. The throbbing in her ankle told her otherwise, though. She had to get out of there.

She exhaled sharply, and hobbled out into the bitterly cold outdoors, the wind and snow wrapping around her frame, controlling the direction she moved in. Bulma gasped, finding it hard to breathe. The shock was too much. She was palpitating, wearing a torn t-shirt and jeans.

She waded through the deep flurry of snow, further and further away from the ship.

She was going to die.

Blinding light swept past her face, casting a ray of heat across her body. A loud explosion erupted right by her feet, sending her flying backwards into the snow, her body collapsing like a ragdoll. She lay there, staring at the grey sky, blinking when a flake of snow landed in her eyes. It felt relaxing, numbing the pain. She could lay there forever. Forget about everything. The snow seeped into her clothes, saturating the fabric, but she didn't care. What did she have to care about anymore? She wasn't going to be part of some dumb game. Who the hell did Frieza think he was?

"One more step, human, and you'll kill us both," a gruff voice shouted from somewhere in the distance.

Oh, now her mind was playing tricks on her. She forced herself up, her limbs trembling, her clothes sticking to her body, and she turned around. The snow was very light, but the wind was sending it swirling around the sky. She squinted, using her hand to shield her eyes from the snowflakes. The cell was barely visible beyond the blur. But she saw it, or, him, rather, standing on the roof, his arm stretched out with a ball of light in his palm. It was merely a silhouette. Had he come to kill her? The panic raised in her chest, as she stared at the figure in the distance.

"Who are you?" she managed.

The light in his hand diminished. She'd been walking towards him without being aware of it. His features became stronger, his black spikey hair blowing in the wind, his bizarre blue and gold armour, a deep frown etched into his face. His presence was overpowering. Even if she wanted to scream, she couldn't.

That's when she saw it—the device around his ankle, where his clothes had been torn, the dry blood on his leg.

Her partner.

A/N - Did you like? I hope so. I'm going to try and whack about four chapters out at once as soon as I can, so you guys can have quite a bit to chew on. Just wanted to see if you liked the idea. Hope to have the chapters done in about two weeks! Until then, thank you!